


the best part of waking up

by hope27



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Season/Series 03, road trip fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-22
Updated: 2015-05-22
Packaged: 2018-03-31 16:02:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3984187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hope27/pseuds/hope27
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Felicity has a birthday present for Oliver, but he insists that she is his gift.  (Loosely based on the Christmas Folger's coffee commerical...)</p>
            </blockquote>





	the best part of waking up

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N:** Hey everyone! So I blame this entirely on a prompt I saw on twitter! They wanted a scene like the Folger’s Christmas commercial (except without the brother sister thing), and I loved the idea of it! So here it is…
> 
> I apologize for the extremely cheesy title…
> 
> As always, I love to know what you think! Leave me a comment or drop me a note! Thanks for all your support!

She woke before him, draped across his back, her cheek pressed against his skin, her head moving with each breath. She felt the sheet across their legs, the limbs intertwined beneath. It had been two days and she knew she would never get tired of waking next up next to him.

Opening her eyes, she noticed that the sun was well into the sky, a soft breeze filtering in from the window to the small cabin they’d rented along the coast.

She could smell the salt spray from the ocean and the faint traces of soap from Oliver’s skin, the leather scent that always clung to him invading her senses. A smile sprung to her lips as she turned gently, hearing Oliver snore beneath her.

The sun might be well into the sky, but her body still craved coffee, and she needed a few extra minutes to finish putting the bow on Oliver’s gift before he woke.

Moving as carefully as she could, she slipped from the bed, surprised when Oliver didn’t even move from his spot, and she watched him for a moment, his eyes closed in sleep, a small smile on his lips. He’d told her that he’d barely slept in Nanda Parbat, his body refusing to completely relax, always on alert and his mind constantly spinning. When he did drift off, he would dream of her, and he would wake soon after, her name on his lips.

Last night, she’d woken to his panicked shouts, his arms tightening their hold around her waist. She’d stroked his face until he’d opened his eyes, the night terror fading into relief. Her hands never stopped their path from his head to his shoulders until he’d fallen asleep again, their foreheads pressed together.

Picking up his grey t-shirt from the foot of the bed where it had been thrown, she shrugged it over her shoulders and padded quietly into the adjoining room, heading straight for the coffee pot.

She was sitting on the counter, staring at said machine, wishing she could will it to percolate faster when he appeared in the doorway of bedroom.

Her eyes flicked to him, and her mouth went dry as she took in the sight of him; his sweatpants slung low on his hips, gloriously tan torso sans shirt, and barefoot. He scraped a hand over his head as he leaned against the doorframe and smirked at her.

Her stomach flipped, heat pooling low and she knew he saw her reaction to him. 

The coffee pot hissed and she quickly glanced at it, sighing when there was still not hot brown liquid waiting for her.

“I don’t think staring at it will help it brew any faster,” he commented dryly and she narrowed her eyes and let out a short huff as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“I’ve been spoiled with my Keurig,” she sighed, looking wistfully at the slow trickle of liquid that began making it’s way into the pot.

She didn’t hear him move, but suddenly he was right in front of her, a smile on his face as he placed both hands on the counter on either side of her thighs.

He leaned forward, brushing his lips against hers in greeting. 

“Morning,” he rasped and the sound of his voice caused heat to flare through her once more.

“Mmmm,” was her only reply as she uncrossed her arms, her hands darting out to hook into the edges of his sweatpants and pull him closer.

He growled softly against her lips and she giggled, knowing she had his full attention and loving how her simple touch could affect him so much.

When he finally pulled back, ducked her head back and reached to the side, grabbing the box she’d carefully wrapped the night before while he had been in the shower and held it up between them.

His brow furrowed at seeing the red bow perched atop the small package.

“What’s this?’ he asked, leaning back and reaching out to take the box with one hand.

She cocked her head to the side and looked at him, and realized that he truly didn’t know what day it was or why she was giving him a gift.

Framing his face in both of her hands, she pulled him close, the box squished in between them. 

“It’s your birthday, Oliver Queen,” she told him, placing a chaste kiss aginst his lips. “And this is a present.”

His brow furrowed when she pulled back, her hands slipping down to rest on his biceps before falling back into her lap.

“Open it.”

His eyes flicked to hers and she saw the depth of emotion staring back at her. The surprise and gratitude, pain of past days and hope for the future all warring for a place of dominance.

She remained quiet while he worked through them all, her hands settling on his waist, a gentle reminder that she was there. Always.

Finally, he swallowed and tipped his head, regarding her for a moment and then looking back at the box with the small red bow.

Before she could say anything, he reached up and plucked the bow off the top of the present and pressed it against her shirt, over her heart.

She frowned, looking down at the bow, a small smile forming on her lips as she looked back at him. “Oliver…what?”

“You’re my present,” he replied softly, voice charged with emotion.

She inhaled deeply, shaking her head in wonder before reaching for him, her arms winding around his neck and pulling him to her as she crashed her lips against his.

His tongue snuck out, swiping over her lower lip and she opened to him, letting him explore as she moaned into his mouth. 

She felt him wrap one arm around her waist, pulling her to the edge of the counter and she locked her legs around his hips, their bodies crashing together.

His hand traveled up her back to the nape of her neck where he threaded his fingers into her hair and slowed the kiss before finally pulling back.

She gasped for breath as she pressed her head against his, and it was then that she burrowed her head against his shoulder, her mind registering his words.

“What?” he asked in amusement.

“I’m pretty sure you just quoted a Christmas Folger commercial…” she replied, shaking her head as she looked up at him, noting his confusion.

“I know they still play that commercial, Oliver…” She sighed in exasperation. 

“I don’t watch much tv,” he shrugged, and she smiled up at him, tilting her head to the side.

“We’ll fix that,” she teased, winking at him. “I have plenty of shows for you to watch with me.”

He smiled, calloused pads trailing patterns against the hem of her shirt that had ridden up and it sent shivers of pleasure up and down her spine, remembering how talented those fingers are and what they could be doing.

“You still need to unwrap your gift,” she said after a few moments, trying to regain some semblance of control. 

“I would love to unwrap my gift,” he said, desire dripping from every word and she pulled back to see him grinning down at her, eyes wide with desire.

She swatted his chest, clinging to the last edges of her control even though she wanted nothing more than to wrap herself around him and spend the day exploring each other. 

“Later, first, you have to do this one,” she said, shaking her head and pointing to the gift he still held in one hand.

He huffed, a slight pout forming on his lips and Felicity chuckled softly. The playful side of Oliver Queen was quickly becoming another facet to him that she loved. 

With deft fingers he tore off the paper and opened the box, lifting out the small keychain.

It was silver, engraved with a phrase in Latin. 

“To us and our dreams.”

She whispered the words as he held it between them, and a slow smile spread across his face.

“I know it’s not much, but things have been a bit crazy, and I didn’t have time to…” she began but was cut off when he leaned down, kissing her soundly.

“I love it,” he murmured against her lips. 

Her smile widened, a flush coming to her cheeks as she watched him walk over to where his jeans were slung across one of the kitchen chairs and pulled the keys to the Porsche out of one of the pocket.

He easily slid the key onto the keychain and held it up for her to see, “Perfect.”

Her cheeks hurt from how wide her smile was but she didn’t care as he strode back over to her, arms caging her in once more.

His lips had just brushed against hers, his hand sneaking under the hem of his shirt that she wore when the coffee pot beeped beside them.

Felicity paused, and Oliver quirked an eyebrow at her, a silent question.

She made her decision quickly, reaching over to turn off the coffee pot before pulling him back to her, his arms winding around her waist as her locked behind his back. She squealed when he lifted her off the counter, his hands trailing over the bare skin of her thighs and higher causing her to throw her head back and moan as he slowly walked them back to the bedroom.

His lips nipped and sucked at the side of her neck as her fingers delved through his closely cropped hair.

“Now I get to unwrap my other present,” he murmured into her skin and Felicity nodded quickly, her feet already working on pushing his pants down his hips as the collapsed onto the bed in a tangle of limbs and laughter.

“Best birthday ever,” he said, kissing down the length of her body and Felicity couldn’t help but agree.


End file.
